


And I'm Like Hot Damn

by Kitty_KatAllie



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: +1 time Viktor is (probably not a stalker) a Mess, 5 times Yuuri's a Hot Mess, Alternate Universe, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Christophe is also mentioned but doesn't actually cameo, He's also super Slutty for Yuuri, M/M, Meet-Cute, Phichit is blink and you miss it cameo i know i'm sad too, Viktor is a Brandname Ho, yuuri is a HOT MESS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:21:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24383458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitty_KatAllie/pseuds/Kitty_KatAllie
Summary: "...He wasn’t still smiling over that young man’s flusterings when he left hours later .... that would be ridiculous if that were true."Viktor thought using public transit while his precious car was in the shop was the worst thing that could ever happen in this monotonous life as a Real AdultTM. Then, he caught sight of the most beautiful man he'd ever seen with the most adorable blushes and breathtaking smiles. Perhaps there's something about saving the planet and taking public transit after all. Now if only he could just introduce himself before Beautiful Subway Man embarrassed himself, or dragged Viktor down with him.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Phichit Chulanont & Katsuki Yuuri, Victor Nikiforov & Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 18
Kudos: 177





	And I'm Like Hot Damn

一．

Viktor sighed as he slid into a blessed empty seat on the subway. It was a lot cleaner than he thought it would be, honestly. Not that it meant he would be giving up his Alfa, but at least while she’s stuck in a mechanic’s garage his commute to and from work won’t be a complete nightmare. Although it was still rather early, the train was already filling up fast. He was extremely lucky to catch the bench when he did, he realized within two or three stops. He was sunk deep into his messages, drafting replies to a few of the more urgent emails, when the next wave of commuters crammed on board. He quickly moved his hands away from the touchscreen, not wanting to send an unprofessional-seeming reply on accident, and looked up with a slight frown on his face. Perhaps he would get as little work done while commuting on public transportation as he did while driving. He had considered the time spent working was the one silver lining to this week or two of hell he was ‘looking forward’ to… His eyes scanned the crowd absently. And another, surprising, silver lining was found.

On another bench, just as crowded, two younger men were crowded close and talking earnestly. One, with pitch black hair and dark skin and vaguely Southeastern Asian features, was gesticulating with one hand, somehow talking and grinning at the same time, while the other, smiling more sedately but just as earnestly, had his arms wrapped around a bulging backpack.

 _A shame_ … Viktor couldn’t help the thought as it came and his eyes trailed over the curve of pale cheek and dark brown eyes under a mop of untidy black hair. The second man, a little taller and broader in the shoulders and chest, was… hm. Cute. Yes. It was a shame that he was obviously a student of some kind, probably college based on the clothes, though who knew with that flawless skin. He had noticed that Asian men and women usually seemed younger effortlessly and naturally. Viktor brushed a hand over his ashen blonde hair, so pale it looked prematurely grey rather than naturally that shade. He was just barely thirty and was mistaken for over forty more and more often these days.

But his eyes glanced over again, drawn to the shy quirk of the young man’s mouth and the way he ducked his head and curled his shoulders forward when he laughed. The train all but screeched to a halt, every occupant wobbled towards the front, a few smacking into rails or doors, even more falling onto other riders. The two friends fell into other, the taller one mostly onto the shorter one, and they burst out laughing.

“Next time, you’re sitting on this side! Diet or no diet, you’re _thick_ , Yuuri!” the one friend complained, still laughing and gently pushing the taller one upward.

Yuuri. Viktor couldn’t help but grin at the familiar sounding name. At least he’d be able to pronounce it properly. He blinked and scoffed lightly to himself. _When_ would he be pronouncing it at all? He lifted his phone again, but couldn’t help but strain his hearing towards the two laughing friends. Couldn’t help his eyes straying over this Yuuri’s deceptively slight body. Deceptively in that perhaps he wasn’t so slight after all. The dark denim encasing those thighs had made them _seem_ thinner, but perhaps the friend wasn’t quite exaggerating when he called the other man _thick_.

It also aged them down a few years. He was sure Yuratchka used that term. Another sigh. Now he was _thinking_ like a forty year old. He was thirty, for crying out loud.

For several stops, Viktor went through his inbox, sent a few messages to his assistant and a few other close colleagues, but left the more important emails for when he wasn’t being jostled every five seconds. When he realized there no more work he could conceiveably do, he scrolled through his instagram… well, his _friends’_. It had been a while since he updated more than an occasional Makkachin photo. And… without even meaning to, he kept throwing a glance in that other-Yuuri’s way.

Until at one point, during a casual glance, he made eye contact with curious brown eyes behind heavy, plastic-framed glasses. Both men jerked in identical guilty surprise. Yuuri— should he really be thinking so familiarly about a stranger? a _younger_ stranger?— glanced away, bit his bottom lip, and flushed a light pink over his rather adorably chubby cheeks. Viktor decided then and there to give up pretending. After several seconds of flustered looking anywhere but Viktor, Yuuri turned back to see Viktor with his chin propped on his fist, his elbow braced on his knee. Blatantly staring back. Yuuri jerked in even greater surprise and Viktor winked with a patented-come-hither smirk he hadn’t used in ages. Despite the lack of practice, it felt natural and easy, and that adorable pink became an even more adorable tomato-red that covered the man’s entire face and even his ears.

Most likely that smirk widened even more, but Viktor couldn’t be bothered to control the urge. What was wrong with a little bit of flirting with a stranger he’d probably never see again? He watched as the flustered younger man shoved his glasses up his nose and fumbled with his phone. He almost dropped it with a yelp Viktor could hear very clearly when his friend leaned in to show him something on his phone.

Viktor chuckled quietly to himself. He had actually forgotten that friend was there. Something he and Yuuri both had done, it seemed. He glanced up, noticed his stop was coming, and let out a relieved sigh while picking up his briefcase and slinging his sleek laptop case over one shoulder. The train screeched to a stop a few moments later and Viktor quickly stepped off and tried not to grit his teeth when the flow of people pushed around him.

Then, he heard a slight gasp and loud curse. He turned to see a frantic Yuuri half out the door, flailing forward, skidding to a stop, stare at the sign of the station, then backpedal wildly onto the train compartment. His face was as red as it had been when Viktor winked and on the train his friend was laughing without one bit of sympathy. The doors slid shut with the annoying warning beeps and Viktor met Yuuri’s wide brown eyes one more time before the man _actually facepalmed_ , his shoulders coming up high around his ears.

The train slid out of the station and Viktor was still standing there, eyes wide, until the laughter actually burst out of him. Had that man just… ran out of the train after him? _On accident?_

His good mood followed him on his walk to the office, and lingered throughout a very productive day. It was the productivity that had him smiling absently to himself all day long, of course. He wasn’t still smiling over that young man’s flusterings when he left hours later— almost _early_ that day, won’t Makka be pleased? But, yes, that would be ridiculous if that were true.

二．

It was becoming less and less amusing not having his car. (And no, it wasn’t because it was now three days later and Viktor hadn’t seen so much of a glimpse of Yu- that young man from the first morning.) He had been squished and jostled to hell and back on the subway, took the public bus once and almost broke a kneecap when it had screeched to a stop abruptly, had been almost too tired to walk Makkachin after work, and the one time he carpooled, he’d done so with Christophe. Who drove like everyone on the road had a deathwish, himself included. Viktor might enjoy speeding his own Alfa around tight corners and through traffic, but he didn’t enjoy being the _passenger_ of such driving.

Viktor groaned when, for the second morning in a row, the benches in the train compartment were all full. Yes, he may have been getting to the subway at the exact same time every day and getting onto the same compartment, so perhaps just changing one of those slightly would mean getting a seat during the long ride across town, but it was _only_ because he was an adult, and adults did habitual things like that. Did he really need to sit anyway? He was heading towards an office job where most of the 8+ hours he put in were behind a desk. In a chair. _Sitting_. Standing was the better option, anyway. It had nothing to do with why his eyes were scanning over faces, searching out big, blue, plastic-framed glasses and messy black hair.

There.

Viktor felt his mouth twitch upwards, his eyes softening and his shoulders slumping; suddenly all the expectant tension had left them. Automatically, he flipped his bangs out of his face— only for them to fall right back into place— and clutched the handhold hanging near his head. The train lurched forward. Down the car and slumped against the bench was the same young man from Viktor’s first morning on the subway. This time, his bright-eyed friend was missing and his eyes were closed, lips parted slightly. His body swayed dangerously with the jerking and rattling of the train, but his eyelids barely flinched behind the glare of his glasses, which were slowly slipping down the bridge of his admittedly adorable nose.

It was a shame he wouldn’t see him talking and smiling, but Viktor supposed this was all right.

Then, he realized he was staring at a complete stranger sleeping, the stranger maybe even young enough to be Yuri’s classmate— 18 was technically legal, but that _technically_ had him wincing. Plus, _Yuri’s classmate_. It took considerable will power not to face-palm right then and there. Viktor rubbed at the back of his neck before quickly searching through his pockets for his phone. Emails. He had emails to check.

Each stop, Viktor couldn’t help but raise his eyes, barely concealed by the fall of his hair, to see him, Yuuri, falling deeper and deeper into sleep. His mouth slid further open, his neck craning back awkwardly, and finally his body rolling almost bonelessly onto the stranger next to him. The poor middle-aged business man had no idea what to do when the 5’8” Asian man slumped onto his shoulder and smiled sloppily in his sleep. Whatever will power he’d had before left in an instant, and Viktor raised his phone for a quick click. Immediately, guilt and a certain kind of discomfort had his lips tightening, thumb hovering over the delete, and then he saw the picture again— the sloppy smile, the crooked glasses, the phone barely hanging from lax fingers, and in the background the business man’s uncomfortable and pained grimace— and he chuckled and left it be. People were filing out of the car and his view of the ridiculous tableau became clear and uncluttered. There was a seat open nearby, but his stop was coming soon, why sit?

A song filled the compartment, some pretty piano piece accompanied by loud buzzing as the phone it came from vibrated. With a gasp and a yelp, the object to Viktor’s very surreptitious picture woke flailing. He barely managed to keep ahold of his phone, clutching it desperately with both hands and half-falling onto the floor and the business man’s lap. The young man jerked back, rubbed at his mouth with the back of one hand, and then that blush came back, covering every inch of skin Viktor could see, from his hairline to his collarbone.

Viktor had to turn away, the knuckle of his index finger pressed tight to his lips and his hand covered the rest of his mouth in a vain effort to keep the laughter in. All the while, Yuuri was apologizing profusely and even bowing awkwardly at the waist at having realized he’d been using the poor man as a pillow for several train stops. The man waved it away and rushed off the train the moment it stopped, and Viktor had to hold back more laughter at the idea that it perhaps hadn’t even been his stop. He might’ve only run away from the awkwardness of the situation. And the bowing.

There was a loud sigh and thump, and, when he glanced back, Yuuri was slumped against the bench, still red in the face. Another louder gasp and wilder flails before he began tapping frantically at his touchscreen. He raised his phone to his ear, and Viktor began to move towards the door, still trying so hard not to laugh.

“Ah, okaasan, gomen ne, sorry, sorry!”

Viktor’s eyes narrowed as he watched the platform of his destination appear in the windows, felt the shift beneath his feet as the train slowed. _Japanese?_ He’d promptly began speaking so quickly, Viktor couldn’t quite make out individual words anymore, but… it did _sound_ Japanese.

On his phone, he opened a search engine and stepped onto the platform. The door closed behind him as the translation went through, then the train rattled away as Viktor held a hand over his mouth and started to _laugh_. And _laugh_. Maybe he had heard wrong, but maybe he hadn’t. He preferred the latter. Maybe that’s why he pulled up his contact list and called someone he hadn’t spoken to in years other than the occasional and brief email.

“Good morning, mother.”

三．

Deciding not to ride the bus, or risk his life with Christophe’s terrible driving, Viktor rode the subway again that night. He’d be late getting home and walk Makkachin, but not as late if he had tried the bus again. He was furiously typing yet another email to the mechanic for more details on his Alfa, while also sending message after message to his dog/house sitter, when he stepped onto the subway. It wasn’t as crowded as that morning, and he managed to slip past a few people to fall into the only space on the bench made by its occupant leaving as he got on. With a huff, Viktor shoved his phone in his suit-blazer pocket and loosened his tie in relief. Then, he looked up straight into the wide, surprised, brown eyes behind a familiar pair of blue-framed glasses.

The young man jerked in place, cheeks slightly pink at being caught, and turned away with an awkward grimace. He was across the compartment, squeezed into the corner made by the seat rails and the empty space of the opposing doorway. His backpack was tucked between his feet and another bag, a duffel bag, was hanging from one shoulder. He looked… exhausted. Pale and flushed at once, his black hair even darker and sticking to his neck and forehead and cheeks. A gym bag then?

Viktor leaned back and crossed one leg over the other, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. He had no idea when he started smiling, been completely unaware he had been until just then. For at least two stops, the young man had studiously ignored Viktor and his blatant staring, even though Viktor’s sharp gaze could see that flush growing over the shell of his ear and down his neck.

 _Absolutely adorable_ , he thought with his smirk growing behind his hand. If only he were older, even a few years. There was so much there to check all of Viktor’s boxes— the delicious contrast of pale skin and dark hair and eyes, the deceptively broad shoulders and slim body, and fantastic thighs if the way his gym pants clung to his legs were any indication. He pressed a finger over his lips and yanked his eyes away before his thoughts became any _more_ indecent.

 _Yuri’s age. 18 is much too young. Blyad,_ 19 _is too young._

More people surged onto the train in the after-work rush, and Viktor was _relieved_ that the young man— that Yuuri— was hidden from sight for an excruciating three stops. The gap in bodies, slight though it was, showed him on his phone, one earbud hanging over his chest and the other in his ear, and his thumb tapping quick and sure over the screen. He looked… tired again. The flush was gone leaving him just pale and wan, the shadows under his eyes even more pronounced. The slight downturn of his lips broke into a shy, awkward smile at whatever he read. Then, he glanced up under long dark lashes and startled in place when their eyes met again. Both men looked away immediately. Viktor rubbed the back of his neck and tried to ignore the awkward sweat sliding down his temple.

What was it about this young man that captivated him?

The train lurched so bad people cried out, the old woman sitting next to him all but fell into Viktor’s lap, a few of the standers grabbed at sitters’ shoulders or fell into poles. Across the car, Yuuri flailed and cried out, gym bag swinging and throwing off his balance even more, making him over-correct and kick his own backpack like a soccer ball.

It thumped into another passenger’s legs just as the car lurched forward again and the zipper burst open. Like a bad romcom, everything inside scattered over and around the feet of several dozen passengers. Books, papers, battered notebooks, highlighters and pens, they flew about every which way, some kicked further by passengers who hadn’t looked down. Yuuri was on his knees, calling out rapid-fire apologies as he crawled and reached and scurried around to grab all his fallen items before the next stop. A few of the pens rolled towards Viktor, tapping against the leather toes of his shiny wing-tipped oxfords. Making sure the woman was sitting up on her own again and waving aside her apologies, Viktor slipped to his knees as well, grabbing the first pen and grimacing when he realized the other had rolled under the seat.

Was it really worth reaching under there, dirty-ing even more of his several thousand dollar bespoke suit, just to get a wayward pen for some probably-high-school-but-hopefully-college student, gorgeous brunette or not? Sighing, Viktor dropped to his hands and reached under the bench. He hadn’t even been this chivalrous to the last hook-up he had. Obviously, he needed to re-examine his life choices.

He began to rise, wayward pen clasped in his fist and inwardly wishing he’d worn his gloves, and a sudden movement came towards him. He jerked back, gasping slightly, but the body moving quickly towards him had thrown itself forward, hands stretched out desperately. He barely heard the stuttered ‘sorry, please don’t worry’ before something very hard smacked into his forehead and he and Yuuri recoiled sharply away, both clutching at their own faces.

“Oh my _gob_ ,” slurred the young man from behind his hands. Viktor peeked out from teary eyes, his hand pressed to his forehead.

“ _That_ is going to bruise,” he gasped with another wince.

“Oh _no_ , I’b sho shorry!” Yuuri all but shouted while hands flailed wildly around Viktor’s face. Showing off the red marking around his nose. As Viktor stared, blood seeped just a bit down one nostril.

“You’re… you’re bleeding. Let me—” Viktor started, feeling completely out of his element and having no idea _what_ to do. It’s not like he just carried tissues around in case cute, flustered boys ran _into his forehead_. 

“Oh _gob._ ” He pinched his nose with one hand, shoved everything into the still gaping-open backpack, and jumped to his feet. “I’b shorry, shorry, I jusd godda— I’b gonna go! Shorrrryyy!”

The train jerked to a stop and Yuuri ran out the door, one bag clutched like a baby to his chest and the other slapping against his thighs from where it hung off his elbow. The last glimpse Viktor had had of his face, his brown eyes were filled with embarrassed or pained tears, his mouth wobbly under a red bubble.

Viktor stared, one hand still pressed to his aching forehead, the other still holding a pen. He glanced down and saw a small plastic poodle stuck to the top of it, where an eraser would be on a pencil.

“Well… _gavno,_ ” he hissed with feeling.

四．

Two weeks. He’d been stuck on public transit for two weeks. A whole week longer than he’d needed to, actually, since the mechanic had told him days ago his Alfa was ready and waiting in the garage for him. They’d been adding a fee for every day he left it there, probably bitter over the emails he’d sent for constant updates… 

Viktor got on the subway late that night, exhausted and grumpy and telling himself for the thousandth time to just give it up. For all he knew, Yuuri was no longer taking the subway. Maybe he was taking the bus these days. Or seeing Viktor in the compartment and running down the platform to hop onto another one. Or maybe he’d bought his own car and was driving it right now. Like Viktor should be doing.

He ran a hand through his hair wearily as he searched for a seat. Fortunately, leaving the office this late, hours past dinner time— his poor baby Makkachin must be frantic by now, he needed to treat her to a new toy— had one silver lining: a lot more empty seats. He fell with an undignified flop, his arms stretched over the back of the bench and his head fell backwards to rest against the window. Days like today made him regret, just a little, retiring. Moving into the corporate world. Putting on suits and insincere smiles instead of flashy costumes and confident smirks. It didn’t help that he’d agreed to take in Feltsman’s newest protege and was having to constantly go to recitals, give advice for this or that, get calls any and all hours of the day or night with shouts of rage hiding insecurity and deeply-hidden need for Viktor’s approval about some song choice or choreography change.

Yuratchka really needed to keep such calls to before midnight. But Viktor knew he’d forget to put his phone on silent and the next 1 AM call would be answered regardless of how tired he was. How much it hurt to remember that world he wasn’t a part of any longer.

He sat up when his neck began to twinge, chuckling at his own melodrama. Which was, of course, when he saw him. His Yuuri. Luckily, his nose looked just as adorable and unbroken as ever, and that bit of relief had Viktor smiling. His forehead hadn’t _actually_ bruised, barely more than a shadow, so he had been sure Yuuri would be fine, but he _had_ worried. Just a little. Tonight, he was sleeping again, looking paler and thinner, his brows contracting lower over the bridge of his nose even in sleep. His arms were wrapped around his backpack and his gym bag was looped around his elbow. His glasses were missing and his hair was slicked back as if he’d made some kind of effort to impress, but his clothes were sloppy and baggy— sweatpants and an oversized hoodie with battered sneakers on his feet.

Somehow he looked older and younger in the harshly dim light of the subway. Viktor saw the emblem spread over the chest of the hoodie and blinked in surprise. That was a college. It was the very college Yuri was hoping to attend because of its great dance and theatre programs. Sure, he might’ve just bought the sweatshirt at a local store, or even gotten it from an older friend or relative, but… but there was a chance…

He waited for him to wake, wondering if he’d finally get a chance to _talk_ to Yuuri, be properly introduced and get to say his name out loud. Meet his gaze and hold it. But Yuuri slept like the dead, occasionally grimacing or muttering indistinctly when the train lurched or the door warnings beeped. Viktor watched his stop come and go, told himself to get up when it came back around. Makkachin wouldn’t need a walk or dinner, his dogsitter had seen to those needs before heading home with a large tip in apology, but she was still waiting all alone for him, and _he_ needed his much belated dinner, but he couldn’t just _leave_ Yuuri like that— alone and completely out of it. Who knew what people rode the subway this late? Would the next passengers be as kind? As respectful of Yuuri’s space? He was leaving himself so vulnerable and as his stop came and went a second time, he barely even flinched, his eyes still on Yuuri’s sleeping face.

 _I’ll wake him. I’m sure he’d prefer to sleep in a bed— his_ own _bed. I’ll just… wake him up and introduce myself._ He braced his hands on his knees, made to stand, only for the doors to open and a group of half-drunk and laughing morons stumbled into the compartment. It wasn't even ten o'clock at night, Viktor thought condescendingly. (Conveniently forgetting his own drunken escapades with Christophe just a few years ago. Or months ago.) They tottered and guffawed their way between Viktor and Yuuri and he watched them pass with an irritated scowl. They all but fell to the bench just a few feet down from Yuuri, who finally twitched and groaned and blinked himself awake.

Bleary brown eyes flickered around the subway car and he dragged a heavy hand through his shiny, over-gelled hair, promptly grimacing and yanking his hand away to leave behind a mess. Viktor leaned back and took out his phone nonchalantly, heart thudding against his breastbone as his hair fell forward to hide the near-constant glances back to the younger man.

Yuuri rubbed away the drool from the side of his mouth, muttering a little louder and patting at his pockets. Both his phone and glasses were fished out from the depths of his hoodie pocket and the screen flashed under his hand.

“What the— It’s that late?! Phichit’s gonna kill me,” he all but whined, tapping at the screen hurriedly and raising it to his ear. He gnawed on a thumbnail, brown eyes even darker. “Phichit— yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to— The subway. Yeah, I got out of rehearsal late and I guess… I fell asleep? … on the subway…” he whispered the last bit. But his friend obviously heard him and he held his phone away and grimaced again as another voice shouted from the other line. When it got quiet, he brought it back to his ear. “I know, I know. You told me so. I promise I’m fine. I think it’ll head back towards home soon… yeah, I definitely missed it a few times. Uh, I'm at—”

Yuuri looked around, searching for the announcement of the approaching stop, and saw Viktor across from him. Viktor _heard_ the intake of breath and the loud gulp. Viktor kept his eyes on his phone and ignoring the sweat sliding down his temple. He must seem like such a stalker, what had he been thinking just sitting here _this whole time_?

“Wh-what? Y-yeah, I’m here,” Yuuri began again, his voice rather breathless.

Viktor closed his eyes and concentrated on _not_ concentrating on Yuuri’s voice, or his private conversation. He let it wash over him, let the loud raucous drunkards smother it.

The drunkards left. A few more people got on and off, the PA announced his stop and he let it go. Just one more time. The phonecall had ended just a little while ago and what if Yuu- the young man fell asleep again? Just in case. He barely saw the other man rise, bag swinging and sneakers squeaking and shuffling over the dingy tiles. The door opened and he paused at the door, there was a quiet breath, then he all but flung himself out of the door. Viktor kept his eyes on his phone, his whole body tense and stiff.

But he couldn’t help but wonder… if he’d looked up, if he’d looked out the window to the man on the platform… would he have been looking back?

He groaned and slumped forward. He still had to wait for the subway to turn back around to get home. Poor Makkachin.

五．

"You have a damn car! It costs a fucking fortune! Why the _hell_ are we riding this razvaluha subway?" Yuri was growling and pouting petulantly as they waited on the subway platform.

“Language, Yuratchka, these strangers will think I haven’t raised you properly,” Viktor said mildly while scanning the documents Yuri’s teachers had given him at the end of the meeting they had just left.

“Who gives a fuck about strangers? Oi, pay attention when I’m talking to you, mudak.”

“Now, that’s just rude. Be a good kitten and hold your tongue. I’m reading,” Viktor said with an absent smile and a pat to Yuri’s head.

“I fucking hate you. I want to go back home to Russia, you suck.”

“Mhm.”

He kept himself from smiling even bigger as Yuri descended into quiet grumbles and hisses. Just like an angry little kitten indeed. He’ll cool down when he finds out about the surprise Viktor had planned. A phone call from his grandfather in St. Petersburg always perked him up. They got onto the subway and Yuri led Viktor to a bench, all but shoving him into a seat while he remained standing, holding himself up with a handhold that was almost too tall for him, ignoring the lower-hanging ones because of some strange, inexplicable principle that only he would understand.

“You’re doing fine in all your subjects. I thought for sure you’d be failing something,” Viktor said at least, straightening the papers and opening his ever present briefcase. “Or that there would be an ungodly amount of disciplinary action records.”

“What is that supposed to fucking mean!? I’m a _model_ student, you asshat!”

“I prefer the insults in Russian, they sound so juvenile in English. But I suppose you _are_ juvenile.”

"Are you doing this on purpose, perhot'podzalupnaya?" Yuri growled.

Viktor’s eyes widened, then he threw back his head and laughed. Yuri grumbled irritably, one hand shoved deep in his leopard-print coat pocket and his mouth pulled down into an irascible pout. He pulled out his phone a moment later and his features softened. As Vitkor wiped at his eyes and chuckled, his gaze caught on blue and he automatically turned.

“Yuuri,” he blurted quietly, seeing that familiar profile past the few bodies between them. He was smiling, wide and bright, blushing happily as he stared down at his phone. His face looked rounder, his eyes all but shimmering, and just so much better than the last time Viktor had seen him, days ago. Four days ago.

“What, asshole? I’m busy,” Yuri snapped. Despite his words, his mouth was quirked up into a smile.

“Busy?” Viktor repeated, pulling his gaze away from the the other Yuuri. The stranger that he _really_ needed to remember was a _stranger_.

“None of your business. Don’t you have other old people to talk to? Whatever that beardy slut man’s name is.”

Viktor sighed and tried not to laugh at the scandalized looks Yuri’s language was making around them.

“I suppose we can just turn back around and you can eat in the dorm cafeteria tonight. There’s time before it closes—”

“No way! You promised a night out after the PT meetings! I want steak! Since there’s no good place for pirozhki in this shitty country,” Yuri demanded, shoving a finger at Viktor, the phone still in his hand waving threateningly in front of Viktor’s nose.

Viktor laughed lightly and let Yuri return to his phone after a long suspicious glare and a derisive ‘tch’. Like a magnet, his eyes were drawn right back to the Asian man across the aisle. He was still mostly turned away, smiling at his phone. Just barely, Viktor could make out the familiar look of an instragram feed. Curiosity sated, his let his gaze roam a little more freely. Four days was too long. He’d finally gotten his Alfa back, and she was sitting beautifully in his garage with barely an extra mile added. Sure his weekend had been hellacious and he’d barely left his personal study the entire time, only to walk Makkachin and to pay for delivery. For the days he could’ve driven to work, somehow he had just… forgotten to change his alarm and he woke up in time to take the subway. And the weather had been nice this week. Really, public transit was so much better for the environment.

His eyes traced the rounded curve of cheek and breadth of shoulder. With Yuri being nearby, Viktor realized that the _other_ Yuuri actually did look a bit older than he first seemed. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but there was something older and steadier about his mouth and eyes that had Viktor’s wishful thinking changing into something like hope. His gaze trailed down the slim curve of the other Yuuri’s waist and the surprising high and rounded curve of his ass. That ass and those thighs were a work of art, and he couldn’t help the pleased quirk of his lips at imagining what they might feel like under his hands, or better yet, under his mouth—

He shifted, crossed his legs and pressed a finger to his mouth. Four days of not seeing his favorite subway passenger didn’t give him the right to those kind of thoughts. Just thinking he _might_ be older than first assumed didn’t mean he actually _was_ , either. Though… what he didn’t know couldn’t possibly hurt him. And there was nothing wrong with a healthy imagination. Viktor huffed and looked back helplessly.

Only to startle in place at seeing Yuuri staring right back at him. There was a flush over his cheeks and nose, and one eyebrow was high over the heavy plastic frames, but there was clear amusement in the curve of his perfect lips. Heat crawled over Viktor’s face as a troubling idea occured.

Had… had he _seen Viktor checking out his ass?_ Without looking away from Viktor’s wide eyes, Yuuri’s mouth stretched a little wider into a smirk, his head tilting slightly, almost coquettishly, and he shifted, hips cocking up to the side and showing off his lovely silhouette to better effect.

Oh yes, yes, he had. Viktor blinked, eyelashes feeling strangely heavy and the heat on his cheeks suddenly nothing to the heat building low in his gut at that smirk aimed his way. Again, that eyebrow rose. Questioning. _Daring_. Viktor always did like to dare.

Just as he had that first day, he flipped his hair away from his eyes and winked, quick and easy, his hand curling loosely in front of his mouth. Despite the invitation— very tempting invitation— he’d already made with his body, Yuuri’s eyes still widened in surprise before that smirk softened into something sweeter, ever more inviting, making Viktor’s mouth instantly dry.

“Old man, let’s go. This is your stop coming up, right?”

“Wh-what?” Viktor glanced towards the words scrolling over the electric banner announcing the upcoming stop. “Ah, da. Yes, let’s…” He barely managed to stand, his forgotten briefcase slapping into his thighs and almost knocking him over.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing, nothing at all,” Viktor said, chuckling under his breath. Yuri groaned aloud, throwing his hands in the air, and then stormed towards the doors, doors right behind the reason for Viktor’s unusual gracelessness. Viktor met dark brown eyes once more. The other man glanced away and back, his cheeks flushing and mouth parting— but if words were going to come out, they were abruptly cut off with a loud gasp and flinch.

Yuri’s phone fell with a clatter at Yuuri’s feet and the smaller blonde lost his balance with a loud curse. The sudden slowing of the train had him stumbling even further away, arms pinwheeling.

“Oh, sorry! Sorry, are you okay?” the Japanese Yuuri exclaimed, flailing just as wildly to grab Yuri before he could fall. Yuuri stepped forward, hand grabbing hold of Yuri’s too large faux-leather jacket, and there was a loud crunch.

All three looked down to see the fallen cellphone under one of Yuuri’s sneakers.

“What did you do, you moron!?” Yuri all but shrieked.

Yuuri stepped back, hands waving in surrender. “I didn’t— I was trying to catch you—”

“ _Haaaah?_ Are you trying to say it’s _my_ fault?”

“No, no, of course not! I’m sure it’ll be fine! I’ll pay for it!”

“You just said it’ll be fine! If you broke it, you’ll _more than pay for it, you clumsy pig_!”

With a sigh and a mental note to teach Yuri about manners _again_ , perhaps even with a threat to discuss it with his grandfather, Viktor got to his knees to pick up the still discarded cell. When he turned it over, the screen had a single crack mostly along the bottom edge. The screen lit up to a picture of two very fluffy, very familiar pets; the cat curled up on top of the poodle in one of their favorite napping positions.

“Yuratchka, everything is fine,” Viktor said looking up. “You should apologize for bumping into this poor man.” He admonished quickly.

Yuri’s mouth worked open and closed without words, steam all but pouring out of his ears with rage.

“I’m not— _apologize_? He _cracked my phone_!” Yuri exclaimed thrusting a finger in Yuuri’s face even as his pale face flamed beet-red and he trembled all over.

The other Yuuri blinked at the finger in front of his eyes, glanced over Yuri’s red-cheeked face and shaking shoulders, and then glanced away. When he turned back, Viktor watched as something in his demeanor _shifted_. As Yuri tried to regain his footing, cursing and snarling at Viktor and Yuuri both, Yuuri simply smirked, the wide-eyed guilt leaving him to be replaced with a sort of condescending amusement that had Viktor’s mouth running dry. It looked too similar to look the Asian man had tossed him across the car when he’d seen Viktor eyeing him.

“I already offered to pay. We won’t have time to exchange contact information, though, because you’re about to miss your stop,” Yuuri said, smirk widening as he glanced towards the doors.

Yuri gaped, gasped, and swung around. The beeping echoed through the compartment and the doors slid shut with warnings to stand back. Viktor blinked, then burst into chuckles behind his hand. A hand entered his peripheral vision, and he abruptly remembered he was _still kneeling_. He glanced up to see Yuuri looking down at him, a much softer, curious-looking smile on his face. He wasn’t even listening to Yuri’s loud shouting.

“Are you okay?” he asked kindly.

“Y-yes, yes, of course,” Viktor stuttered at first before remembering himself. He smiled back, flicking his bangs away from his face.

He gripped the offered hand and rose smoothly. Perhaps he hadn’t been on stage in several years, but that didn’t mean he’d completely lost all his grace. Standing this close, Viktor realized that while Yuuri was shorter, it wasn’t quite as short as he’d first thought, and his shoulders were almost as broad as his own. There was something just… more substantional about Yuuri’s frame than Viktor’s naturally slimmer one. There was a slight loosening of Yuuri’s hand, but Viktor tightened his grip and raised that hand to his mouth. Just barely, Viktor brushed his lips over the back of the knuckles he’d captured, smirking as all that confidence disappeared and he turned red all over, a small squeak escaping his mouth.

Viktor really didn’t know which face he enjoyed better.

“He’ll never say it himself, so hopefully you’ll accept my excuses for Yura’s terrible behavior and allow me to apologize,” Viktor said smoothly.

“Oi! Don’t just _flirt. Right here!_ ”

“It’s n-nothing, I mean, you don’t need to—!” Yuuri stuttered as his glasses slipped down his nose. He eeped and froze like a startled rabbit as Viktor stepped in closer, so close his suit blazer brushed the zipped-hoodie hanging open around Yuuri’s torso.

“I assure you, I do. He’ll be paying for the repairs _himself,_ ” he glanced towards where Yuri was fuming nearby, “or lose the equivalent amount of time on his computer games. What is that _very expensive_ one I’m somehow paying for every month? War of—”

“Fine! I’ll pay for it! Fuck you, too, Vitya!” Yuri snarled. A mother nearby gasped and dragged her two excitedly gawking children away. Yuri stomped towards the compartment doors to wait for the next stop— that would be coming soon, sadly.

Viktor turned back to Yuuri, both surprised and pleased to see he hadn’t tried to slither away. He was glancing between Yuri and Viktor, amusement curling up the side of his mouth while his cheeks still glowed a faint pink.

“You said something about exchanging contacts? How about at least your name?” Viktor asked, trying not to sound desperate. Brown eyes— the exact shade of coffee, Viktor’s favorite drink, because of course they were— met Viktor’s. Confusion flitted over his beautifully expressive face.

“But… if he’s paying for his own phone…?”

“It’s not for little Yura’s phone, but for _me_. You think I already forgot the way you looked at me a moment ago? Or how I was looking at _you_?” He couldn’t help but look down again, eyes traveling down the broad chest and trim waist and _those thighs_ just a hair’s breadth from his own body.

“Oh. _Oh_ … um, yeah?” Yuuri all but breathed the agreement as that adorable blush spread over his face and down his neck once more.

If given time, how long could he keep that blush there? How far could he make it spread— Viktor broke off his own thoughts as he suddenly remembered a very important detail. He closed his eyes, pained, and stepped back. Yuuri stepped forward, flinched, and stepped back as his mouth pulled down into a grimace.

“Please, tell me you’re at least 19,” Viktor sighed, bracing himself for the answer.

“Huh? Wait, did you think— I’m _twenty-six_!” Yuuri exclaimed in annoyance.

Viktor burst into startled laughter, a moment later Yuuri joined in. Only Yuri’s loud huffing and the announcement of the next stop could calm them.

“Thank God. Viktor Nikiforov, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Viktor said at last.

“Yes, I kn— I mean, I’m Katsuki Yuuri. Just Yuuri is fine.”

Finally, he could use the name he’d known for weeks now.

“Yuuri,” he all but purred the name, stepping closer again. Yuuri gulped, eyes dropping to Viktor’s smirking mouth. “I hope you don’t mind my being a bit… of a mess. I’m not used to being the second most beautiful man in the room.”

“Ah, wha— this isn’t a r-room?” Yuuri blurted. Viktor chuckled as Yuuri hissed and grimaced. “Okay, that was dumb. Th-thank you, I think? But I’m definitely not—”

“No _way_ am I listening to this mushy crap. I’m gonna puke,” Yuri snapped, grabbing Viktor’s arm and yanking him away as the doors sprang open. Viktor stumbled after the teenager, his hand falling away from Yuuri’s, who stared after him with wide, frazzled eyes.

“Until next time,” Viktor called hopefully, his mouth breaking into a wide, heart-shaped smile and his hand waving. Yuuri nodded dumbly.

Yuri dropped Viktor’s arm the moment they stepped out, then started stomping across the platform to wait for the next subway going back to their stop.

“So _embarrassing!_ Why do you have to flirt with _everyone_? Especially _that guy_?”

“I don’t flirt with everyone, I’m poli—”

There was a loud noise and a shout and the doors of subway jumped open before they could close fully. He spun around to see Yuuri doubled over, panting, backpack and gym bag falling from his shoulder. When he looked up, Yuri and Viktor were staring at him in shocked silence. He shoved his glasses up his nose and jumped forward with a squeak as the doors sprang shut just behind him.

“Thi-this is my stop…” he whispered, red-faced.

Viktor burst into laughter all over again, it’d been so long since he had laughed _this much_. Yuuri glared, slung both bags onto his shoulder, then turned and strode away. He completely bypassed the escalator, hopping up the steps two at a time. Even through the laughter, Viktor definitely noticed how well those pants clung to _that ass_ with each long stride.

“Really, Vitya? _That guy_?” Yuri repeated.

“He’s perfect, isn’t he?” Viktor agreed with a chuckle. His sneakers were gone from sight already. A niggle of worry had Viktor frowning, but surely he wouldn’t be too embarrassed and try to avoid Viktor next time? It was just a little thing…

“You mean he’s a _trainwreck_. C’mon, the subway is coming.” Yuri scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re not gonna cancel my account, right? I’ll pay for it. The phone.”

“Of course you will. My office will appreciate your hard work for the next month or two until you do.”

“ _Month or two_!?”

“Your visa won’t allow you to have a real part-time job and you know it, Yura.” Viktor settled a blithe smile on Yuri, who blanched under the weight of it. “I truly wouldn’t mind never having to pay for that ridiculous m-o-m-p-g-whatever it is ever again.”

“MMORPG… mudak …” he muttered. Viktor pretended the incoming train covered the whisper.

\+ Один

Saturdays. Blissful wonderful Saturdays. It had been a long time since he’d taken a full weekend off work. _Technically_ , he was only supposed to work Monday-Friday, but somehow there was always something more to do. Something that kept him locked in his home office for the whole day, squinting blearily at too many photocopies or his computer screen, sometimes dragging him into the office with a few other unlucky souls with zero social lives or a disgusting work ethic.

In high school, and in college, Viktor willingly chose these kinds of hours, throwing himself into the next set, the next performance, the next dazzling idea that itched to get free. But this wasn’t like _then_ , this was a paycheck each month. Mundane, adult, mindless. There just wasn’t enough keeping him home. Not with Yuri boarding most days of the week and a dogsitter basically at his house taking care of Makkachin more than _he_ did these days. Some people thought he had retired so he could _stay_ home more often, not the opposite.

But retiring hadn’t given him any more satisfaction than his last few years touring.

Today, though! This Saturday, he was taking his full weekend off! He was going to enjoy a true weekend, spend hours with Makkachin, and maybe even try cooking for the first time in months. He had a few dishes he excelled making, but anything else had ended up in disaster. He frowned remembering his last foray into pelmini making. How could something so simple end up so wrong?

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud excited bark and sharp jerk in his hand of the leash. He grinned and picked up his pace to jog alongside Makka. She rushed in a circle around him, like a puppy instead of a poor old woman of 15 years. It really had been too long since he spent a whole day with his Makkachin, especially out on a long, leisurely walk to the park. He was even choosing to go to a park a little further away than the usual one he went to. For the extra time with Makka, since he’d been coming home so late and leaving so early with all this commuting.

Not because it was between his stop and the one Yuuri had said was his. Maybe he just needed something in the neighborhood, it didn’t mean he _lived_ near that subway stop. Again, Viktor was just taking a longer stroll than usual because _Makkachin_ deserved it. He stopped to kneel next to Makkachin, burying his hands in her fluffy brown curls and give her the scritches she liked best. As her tongue lolled happily, Viktor couldn’t help but mutter to her firmly,

“This isn’t a romcom, Makkachin. We can perhaps _hope_ that we’ll casually run into him, but actual stalking means going to jail. So, we’ll have a nice day _at the park_ and resist any and all urges to wander up and down strange neighborhoods, da?”

Makkachin shook all over, decided enough was enough, and jumped on him for slobbery kisses. He almost toppled over, laughing under the onslaught of her exuberance. After a minute of letting her have her way, he shoved her gently back onto all four paws and got to his feet. One last ruffle of her fur and ears, and they re-started their leisurely walk to the park.

It ended up being a very nice walk, if longer than usual (perhaps he’ll pay for a taxi back, he’d hate to wear out Makkachin too much; would HR kill him if he ordered a company car?), and the park was even nicer than the one near his house. It was larger with a designated dog area that had Makkachin perking up again. He let her off leash to go play with the other dogs— or, really, flop down on the beautiful lawn and let the smaller more energetic dogs basically crawl all over her. He chuckled to himself and pulled out his phone, wondering for the hundredth time if a puppy would be worth it. It would really mean cutting down on his hours, but Makka would be so pleased. The other dog owners made some motions to approach, but he kept his eyes— hidden behind shiny Gucci sunglasses— fixed on his phone, only glancing up to check on Makkachin, smile to himself, and look back at his phone. Luckily, it was a phone with a privacy screen and he was honestly just scrolling through Christophe’s instagram posts instead of doing anything business-like, but these strangers didn't need to know that.

After a while, a shorter time than he expected, Makkachin pranced back to him and flopped over his mostly bare feet. It had been sunny enough— especially compared to his native St. Petersburg— that he’d gone with his leather sandals, their well-known brand name hidden under the sole of his foot. He didn’t like to flash too many names at once and luckily these had a less ‘LOOK AT ME’ style to them than his flashy shades. He carefully knelt and ran his hand over Makkachin heaving sides. She rolled over, paws waving in the air and belly bared.

“Have fun, girl? I’ve been spending too much time away from home, haven’t I? Maybe we’ll bring Yura next time. He’s such a needy child, he might like the attention, what do you think?” Viktor cooed, rubbing at Makkachin’s belly and laughing. She wriggled happily and barked at the sound of his voice.

“V-Viktor, I mean, Mr. Nikiforov?” panted a tired-sounding, yet familiarly accented voice. Viktor stared at Makkachin in shock, then he spun on the balls of his feet to stare.

“I… I can’t believe it,” he blurted.

Sure enough, Yuuri was standing on the path just outside the dog park fence. He looked absolutely _divine_ in his workout clothes, black pants like a second skin and a wine-red shirt clinging to his shoulders with a black strap cutting diagonally across his chest, making him looker even broader and taller. Sweat ran down his flushed face, black hair stuck to his temples, and he held earbuds in his hands that he slowly lowered. He looked slimmer without the layer of his usual hoodie, and, without the glasses, he was squinting adorably and leaning forward on his toes.

“It’s the… Your hair. I couldn’t help but notice,” Yuuri said with a wave towards him. Viktor raised a hand and touched his admittedly bright and noticeable hair. “You live over here?”

“A bit further away, but I saw good reviews for this park. Makka deserves a good park,” Viktor said, smiling down at Makka one more time. She wriggled again to settle in for a nap. “I should find some water.”

“I think there’s a fountain, but…” Yuuri pulled the strap over his head and the thermos swung through the air lazily. “She doesn’t look like she’s going anywhere soon.” He grinned, something around his eyes tight and strained as he looked down at the large poodle.

“Are you sure?” Viktor asked, frowning slightly.

“Hm?” Yuuri jerked and the smile on his face smoothed into something more genuine. “Yeah. Of course. I wouldn’t deny a dog some water.”

Viktor got to his feet and Yuuri jogged down to the fence. Viktor took the offered bottle with a sincere smile and thoughtlessly reached out to gently brush hair away from those wide, beautiful eyes. Yuuri stiffened and glanced away, hand covering most of his face as the flush of his exercise bloomed hotter.

“I’m a little sweaty for that,” Yuuri mumbled from behind his hand.

“There are occasions where a little sweat is acceptable,” Viktor said a wink. The responding low wheeze had him biting back a chuckle as he stepped back to Makka. He had stayed near the fence earlier to lean against it when he got tired of standing, so she wasn’t far. She eagerly lapped at the stream of water, but luckily stopped on her own before he felt too guilty about pouring out too much. He patted her with another burst of praise that had her stretching lazily over the grass with a wide-mouthed doggy grin on her fuzzy face.

A hand reached out and touched the top of his head. And he froze. Slowly, he reached up and touched his head and lifted his eyes to see a wide-eyed and horrified-looking Yuuri leaning over the fence.

“O-oh my god, I shouldn’t have— it was just—”

“Is it… thin?” Viktor whispered.

“NO! No, it’s very thick and shiny! I was just… it was just there and _shiny_ , that’s—”

Viktor covered his face with a hand, chest tight and mouth straining. “I don’t think I’ll ever recover from this,” he managed to force out in breathless amusement.

“I didn’t mean to— I’m sorry!” Yuuri exclaimed. Viktor looked over to see him all but doubled over the fence, both hands gripping the metal railings and repeatingly bobbing up and down in an awkward bow.

The laughter burst free and Yuuri gaped at him. Viktor got to his feet and handed back the half-empty water bottle. Yuuri took it back, stared at it uncomprehendingly for a moment, until he too finally began to laugh.

“Wow, I’m a mess. I seem to only be making an idiot of myself around you,” Yuuri said as he ran a hand through his hair. He grimaced lopsidedly and rubbed his hand on his pants. “I’ll have to fix that somehow. Just need to give me about a thousand years to be a functional human being first.”

“Definitely not, I hate waiting for things,” Viktor disagreed. Seeing his chance, he wasn’t about to waste it by overthinking anymore than he had been for the past few weeks. It had been _exhausting_ and also, he wanted to drive his car again. At Yuuri’s amused smirk and glowing brown gaze settling so comfortably on Viktor’s, the taller man raised a finger to his lips and then winked. “I think a date would do just fine.”

“A-a _date_?” Yuuri squeaked, almost dropping his bottle. “With _you_?”

“I wasn’t about to offer Yuratchka, so yes, of course, me,” Viktor retorted, an eyebrow rising.

“B-but _you_ , a _date_? With _me_?”

“I don’t understand the confusion. Especially with those pronouns. What’s wrong with _you_ and _me_ and a date?”

“Wr-wrong? There’s nothing _wrong_ —”

“Perfect! Makkachin, how do you feel about a little date then?” At Viktor’s voice saying her name, Makka stretched luxuriously over the grass before climbing to her feet and shaking herself off briskly. She _boofed_ loud and happy, tail wagging.

“Wh-what? _Right now_?” Yuuri asked incredulously as Viktor clipped the leash back on Makka’s collar. Viktor came up to the fence and touched his fingers just barely under Yuuri’s chin and watched his face blush brightly as Viktor leaned in close. He smelled like sweat and grass and something heady and delicious. It made Viktor want to press his nose under the hinge of that jaw and just _breathe_.

“Unless you’ve got other plans?”

“J-just running,” the answer was barely words, falling out of Yuuri’s mouth on a shaky exhale.

“Wonderful!” He stepped back and Yuuri rocked on his feet, blinking unsteadily. “We’ll have to take it easy on Makkachin. She’s already had quite a walk.”

“There’s um,” Yuuri licked his lips, and glanced quickly away and back. “There’s a snack stand by the lake, or, maybe pond? I think they’ve got hotdogs, if Makka can eat them.” Yuuri blushed and rubbed his neck under Viktor’s beaming smile.

The moment Viktor walked through the gate, he grabbed Yuuri’s hand and all but hauled him towards the small man-made lake. Yuuri tensed all over, but quickened his pace to keep up with Viktor’s longer-legged strides. The next hour or so ended up being the best first date Viktor had ever forced an almost complete stranger to have with him.

After the intial shyness and awkwardness, those glimpses of appreciation of irony and sardonic amusement would sneak out of Yuuri. Even better, whenever Makka tried to bowl him over or lick desperately at his hands or face, he only laughed and knelt down closer to help her out, never disgusted or pushing her away. There was just something about a beautiful man— _this_ beautiful man— being sweet to Viktor’s dog. Since Yuuri went running without wallet or glasses, just his ID and Applewatch, it was easy for Viktor to smoothly cover the bill of their ridiculously overpriced and oversalted snacks despite Yuuri protesting and talking about ApplePay or some such nonsense. They walked a bit around the lake, but they stopped pretty soon to sit on a bench, Makkachin quickly asleep and half on Viktor’s lap, the rest on her long, heavy body spread over the bench. It meant he had to sit closer to Yuuri than the younger man had been expecting, but Viktor took shameless advantage. Pressing closer to scroll through his endless albums full of Makka, some even from her puppy days. Brushing his pinkie like a whisper over the back of Yuuri’s hand and hiding a smile at the full-body shudder it elicited. Even enjoying the heart-pounding sensation of Yuuri’s brown eyes meeting his from so close when he turned with an pleased smile as Viktor gushed over the pictures of a toy poodle that Yuuri hesitantly shared.

“He died a couple years ago, so today, getting to know Makka, it’s been nice,” Yuuri admitted as he let his phone fall to his lap.

“Oh…” Viktor whispered, realizing what he’d seen cross Yuuri’s face earlier. “I couldn’t imagine…” He sighed roughly and glanced down at Makka. “I’m not much good at cheering people up. I’m not good at most serious things, actually.”

“What? N-no, don’t worry. I meant it when I said _years_. It’s… well, I guess it’s not fine, it still sucks a lot, but I’m not gonna cry or anything. I promise,” Yuuri laughed awkwardly.

Viktor smiled lightly back. “If you do, you can have Makkachin’s shoulder. She’s much better at that sort of thing.”

“I’m sure she is. I thought you were Mr. Suave, but you’re actually just a total weirdo, aren’t you?” Yuuri blurted, and then looked promptly horrified.

Viktor stared, then burst into laughter, leaning against Yuuri’s shoulder as he wrapped an arm around his own torso. Makka grumbled irritably, then settled.

“I shouldn’t have said that!”

“You definitely should have. I’m probably weirder than you realize,” Viktor admitted, feeling his own face flush.

“If you mean coming all the way to this park instead one closer to where _you_ live, then it’s not _that_ weird,” Yuuri said, mouth twisting up into a half-smile.

“Figured that out?” Viktor asked wryly.

“Pretty easy to, since I’ve been coming to this park for years and I’ve never seen you _or_ Makkachin. I’d remember Makkachin for sure. She stands out,” Yuuri teased. Actually _teased_. It had Viktor smiling his heart-shaped smile at him and making Yuuri’s shoulders slump as he smiled softly, maybe even… _fondly_?

“Years? I’ve been missing out for _years_?” Viktor pouted, giving Yuuri an obvious once over. Yuuri flamed beet-red and glanced away.

“Stop that. And yeah, years. Me n’ my best friend moved over here when I came back to finally finish my Bachelor’s. He’s already got his Master’s and just opened his own business, but he’s been pretty great about supporting me through all this college student crap six years late,” Yuuri chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Are you almost done now?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Yuuri said it with a gusty and relieved sigh. “I’ll be walking in just a few months. I can’t wait to be done. It’s just an Business Accounting degree, but I could help out my family’s business, or even help out Phichit with his. And I like numbers.”

“You… you’re an accounting major?” Vitkor repeated. If Yuuri had said he was majoring in beet-farming, he would have probably felt just as baffled.

Yuuri glanced at him, then away. The dark red blush burned his ears and down his neck. “Minor in Dance.”

“Oh yes, that suits you much better,” Viktor said, much relieved.

“What? Really? The _dance_ part suits me better?” Yuuri exclaimed.

“Of course. I’ve seen the way you move—”

“You mean fall all over myself—”

“I _mean_ when you think no one’s looking at you, the way you stand, or lift your head and roll back your shoulders, I recognize it. That way of holding yourself,” Viktor said, trying to ignore the wistful, almost pained way he spoke. He pulled up a small smile. “Not to mention you have thighs that could make a ballerina weep.”

“Wh-w _hat_?” Yuuri’s body jerked next to Viktor and he couldn’t help the chuckle. There was a quiet pause as Viktor kept his eyes on the ducks floating over the small lake’s surface. “I… does that mean you were… looking?”

Viktor glanced over to see a complicated expression on Yuuri’s face. His cheeks were still a little flushed, but his brows were lowered into a frown, eyes darting over Viktor’s face.

“Looking?” He hadn’t meant for the word escaping him to be so low and quiet. Yuuri licked his bottom lip and then bit the corner, but his face was still more thoughtful than bashful, and Viktor _burned_ , transfixed by the sight.

“When no one else was looking, you were?”

Viktor dragged a hand through his hair and decided there was no better way to explain it than: “My car has been fixed for almost two weeks. There was no reason for me to keep taking that subway to work. No _other_ reason than looking at you.”

Yuuri blushed red, eyes wider and wider as the words processed. Viktor could swear he actually _saw_ them processing behind those dark brown eyes. Finally, he took a deep breath as the slow sweep of his long lashes broke his wide-eyed gaping. It was ridiculous how every new, small detail Viktor found made Yuuri even more gorgeous. He couldn’t help the smile on his face as Yuuri licked his lip again.

“We should exchange numbers. You can warn me the next time you feel like interrupting my run,” Yuuri said decisively, his mouth turning up on the side as that _teasing_ came back. Viktor gasped happily and patted at his pockets to hand his phone over immediately.

“Perfect! There’s no subway to cut us off this time. Where’s your…” he trailed off and roved an eye over Yuuri’s pocketless apparel (and enjoying yet another excuse to do so). “You don’t have a phone.”

“I have an Apple Watch. You really are an old man. You’re barely thirty, Viktor!” Yuuri laughed, taking Viktor’s unlocked phone from his hand and quickly inputting his information. “Oh, thank god. You have What’sApp, too. It makes sense you wouldn’t have Line or Wechat, but at least you have _that_.”

“Of course I have What’sApp, and the google one, too!” Viktor protested, half-laughing. “I have Yura for the old man talk, please not you, too.” He frowned slightly. “How did you know I was thirty?”

Yuuri stiffened all over. “A good guess?”

“Yuu~ri,” Viktor singsonged warningly.

Yuuri slumped. “I’m in _dance_ , Viktor. Take a guess.”

Viktor frowned a little harder, then blinked. “Oh. Oh, you’re a _fan_. This… this hasn’t happened in a while.”

“Well, you retired three years ago and dance isn’t exactly football or basketball. Americans have the _worst_ taste,” Yuuri sighed roughly. His ears were red and handed over the phone as the fancy looking watch on his wrist chirped. “There.”

“I agree that football is a pretty terrible sport, but let’s get back to where you’re a _fan_. Yuu~ri, did you know who I was this whole time?” Viktor asked, grinning unrepentantly. Yuuri flinched and his shoulders rounded forward. Like a cute, bashful, little turtle.

“I— I was touring, in whatever dance companies and tours and contracts I could get for four years. I had stupid dream of dancing with you on a stage somewhere, anywhere,” Yuuri said wistfully. Viktor felt the shock like a punch to the chest. “When you retired… I was even in St. Petersburg, dancing in the same company you did when you made your debut at sixteen. I felt so close to you, and then suddenly I was further away than I’d ever been. I wanted to keep going, because even if I’d never meet you, I still loved dance. Then, Vicchan died. And my family…” Yuuri cut off and smirked humoursly, “Then, I realized I was 24, going on 25, and I was still a nobody stuck in Russia dancing with people who could barely remember my name. Madame Baranovskaya told me I should stay, but she was just being kind. And without you, it didn’t feel like I had a dream anymore anyway.” Yuuri shrugged and laughed. “Never did completely give up, though. I guess you’re not so special after all.”

He turned and smirked, something teasing and self-deprecating at once. But Viktor caught that casual name drop and he was sitting up straight, eyes wide in shock and sudden realization.

“Bara- _Baranovskaya_? As in, _Lilia_ Baranovskaya of the Bolshoi Ballet?”

Yuuri winced a little and smiled. “Sorry, I guess I just sort of admitted how creepily obsessed I was with your career. I understand if—”

Viktor waved that away. “That’s not the point. Lilia isn’t _kind_ , not like that. She doesn’t say anything she doesn’t mean. If she wanted you to stay, that meant you were _good_ , _great_ even.”

Yuuri shrugged again, frowning. “I wasn’t good enough. I like what I do now anyway. Ballet is… breathtaking, but I liked all the other styles I can play around in, too. I was never meant to be some principle _danseur_.” The soft, lilting way he pronounced the French title had Viktor’s heart thudding. He’d never been this affected by _French_ , a language he’d known almost half his life.

“She asked you to be principle _danseur_?” Viktor repeated tonelessly.

“Well, not exactly. I had stage fright pretty bad, I was working on it, but, like I said, everything just sort of grinded to a halt and I gave it up.”

Viktor turned and placed a hand on Yuuri’s cheek. It was warm under his palm, and Yuuri froze. Viktor wasn’t even sure if he was breathing as he leaned in close.

“I want to see you dance.”

Yuuri swallowed loudly and nodded once. Neither moved, gazes locked, and Yuuri’s cheek was still so warm under Viktor’s thumb as he stroked over the smooth skin. Makkachin began to squirm, whining as she woke. Viktor broke the gaze and sat back with a sigh.

“Next time, sadly. Makkachin and I have a long, slow walk ahead of us now that she’s rested.”

“Y-yeah,” Yuuri croaked.

“Do I need to give you my number still?” Viktor asked as he glanced at his phone.

“Uh, no, I sent a message to myself. And I saved my What’sApp, too. I can’t believe you have an _Android_ , though. You’re wearing Gucci sunglasses, but you don’t have an _iPhone_?” Yuuri blurted with a laugh.

“What’s wrong with my glasses? Or my phone? Apple is ridiculously complicated!” Viktor said with a pout.

“You can’t figure out how to switch to an iPhone, that’s it, isn’t it?” Yuuri accused, laughing incredulously. “You got stuck in Android and can’t get out.”

“Or Androids are just easier and less _ridiculous. Yuu~ri_ , you’re so mean now! I thought you were my biggest fan?” Viktor whined, hand clutching at his chest. Yuuri’s head actually tipped back as he laughed even harder.

“I can’t be anymore. We’re completely incompatible. The curse of an Apple user dating an Android user. We’ll never make it,” Yuuri said between chuckles.

“That’s just cruel,” Viktor whined. He stroked a hand down Yuuri’s arm, smirking as goosebumps followed in the wake of his gentle touch. He picked up Yuuri’s hand, lifted it to his mouth, and brushed a kiss over his knuckles. The laughter was gone, replaced with that adorable blush, brown eyes still sparkling with humor. “I’m sure we’ll be compatible elsewhere.”

Yuuri wheezed. Viktor chuckled and turned away to help Makka off the bench and onto the ground. As she stretched and yawned, a hand grasped the front of Viktor shirt. He was yanked around and he caught a glimpse of Yuuri’s determined little frown before his lips brushed over Viktor’s. It was fleeting. A barely there and gone again touch. But every nerve in his body sang and his heart stopped beating as his wide eyes met Yuuri’s not-quite-narrowed ones.

“Yeah,” Yuuri’s eyes darted over Viktor’s face and that soft, shy smile curled his perfect mouth upwards. “Yeah, I’m sure we will be, too.” He got to his feet and stretched his arms over his head. “Since my run was interrupted, I’ve got a lot to make up for. I guess I can make sure you and Makka get home safely.”

Viktor stared wordlessly up at him, handing over the leash thoughtlessly when Yuuri went for it. Then, his other, empty hand reached out between them, waiting. Viktor grinned and eagerly wrapped his hand around Yuuri’s, fingers interlacing, already so naturally.

“We’d like that,” he agreed, sounding breathless, voice lower than intended. He tripped to his feet, but Yuuri’s balance didn’t waver. Steady and solid under Viktor’s weight.

The walk home took twice as long as it should have. It would’ve taken even longer if Makkachin hadn’t rushed them.

**Author's Note:**

> My friend and I also called this the "Casual Extra Mile" fic, since Viktor "walked a casual extra mile to accidentally hopefully run into his crush". I have a lot more backstory for both of them! and Viktor even has his own tragic backstory. But... I only did all that so I could imagine how to get them into bed with each other, because they're both so dumb and take forever to get anything done. So, maybe one day, there will be more fics in this 'verse I've made up, but prolly not. LOL


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